


Neon Elegy

by hedgerowhag, nereidlilies



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mob, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Featuring: bad life decisions, Hostage Situations, Humor, M/M, Minor Violence, Slow Burn, and too many motels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-28
Updated: 2017-06-13
Packaged: 2018-09-20 12:55:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9491756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hedgerowhag/pseuds/hedgerowhag, https://archiveofourown.org/users/nereidlilies/pseuds/nereidlilies
Summary: Beside the open car door, there is a tall man holding a shotgun that is trained on the immobile target. With no further movement from the escapee, the man approaches. The soles of his yellow flip-flop sandals slap and the ammo cartridges in his pink-blue striped shorts rattle as he walks.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this has been sitting on my desktop since june '16

_Somewhere in Nevada_

 

The sky is pale blue, fading white over the horizon. Not a strip of cloud lines it. Below, the dry earth is rucked by sallow shrubs that patter out into the distance where mountains of pale rock and sand crawl.

Running through the desert, there is a thin line of tarmac streaked by waves of lying dust between the flanks of telephone poles. The road is silent; cars rarely pass and the horizon remains empty.

However, out in the distance, something catches the sun. It glints as the rumble of an engine echoes across the desert.

Chased by a cloud of dust, a car appears. It's scabbed with sand and scratched by chunks of flying gravel. The headlamps and windscreen are coloured murky from the long hours on the road.

The car swerves briefly before righting itself. But, before it can continue, it jerks from side to side and spins out with a screech in the loose gravel.

Slipping down the broken edge of tarmac, the car slopes down over the bushes at the side of the road. The wheels cracks on the stones and the car cants like a moored ship.

The passenger door flings open, hinges squeaking, and a man falls out onto the gravel. He scrabbles up, almost falling again as he rounds the car and makes it for the desert.

He turns, still running, to look back at the car and flails when his feet catch on a shrub that sends him tumbling onto the ground. The raised dust clings to his tattered black suit and white shirt, stained by washed out blots of brown and red. His copper hair is dishevelled and pale skin muddy. A gash splits the man’s brow.

Like an overturned beetle, he claws the ground as he scrambles to get up. But his efforts are cut short by the sound of a shotgun firing. The break-action clicks into place.

The man freezes, hand outstretched across the sand, pale eyes fixed on the horizon. His breathing is ragged and a faint tremble plays his arms.

Beside the open car door, there is a tall man holding a shotgun that is trained on the immobile target. With no further movement from the escapee, the man approaches. The soles of his yellow flip-flop sandals slap and the ammo cartridges in his pink-blue striped shorts rattle as he walks.

Suddenly, the red-head jerks up off the ground and sprints over the shrubs. Ammo rounds pound the earth at his heels. He finds himself on his knees again, tasting the dust as the slapping footsteps approach.

The red-head is wrenched up by the back of his jacket. He thrashes violently, trying to twist out of the trapping clothing.

“Let me go, you psychopath!” shouts the hostage, kicking at the gunman, sending billows of dust into the air.

“Will you fuckin’ stop that!”

The red-head is shuck into temporary placidity before the fighting and struggling starts up again. A single thump sounds and man falls limp. A trickle of red pours down from his hairline.

The man collapses to his knees, groaning. His vision wavers as he touches the slick trail running down his dusty face. “You piece of shit.”

The collar of the red-head’s jacket is twisted in a fist and yanked, trying to get him to stand, but he remains a dead weight.

“You need to get up.”

The man blinks, trying to focus the doubling line of the shrubs.

“Get up!” the gunman yells.

Rubbing the fog out of his eyes as he is dragged across the sand, the red-head shouts, "I can't fucking see!"

The movement stops.

“You gonna vomit?”

“I—I don’t think so.”

The dust coated man is forced onto his feet with the barrel of the shotgun pressed into his ribs.

The backseat of the battered sedan is opened and the hostage is pushed inside. Falling onto his stomach, he turns, legs raised up against himself as the armed man leans in, reaching down below the seats.

A cold, white plastic box is shoved into the red-head’s hands. It stings his scratched up palms. Briefly forgetting the shotgun that is pointed at him, the man turns the box around and sees the label of an ice cream brand.

“What the fuck is that for?”

“Do you want your head to swell?” The man behind the shotgun in the stretched out grey pyjama t-shirt looks at his hostage pointedly.

In the stillness, the air fills with the hum of the electric wires overhead. The shotgun glints and blood dries in the heat.

There is a thump in the car as the hostage drops his head onto the tub of melting ice cream. He winces from the sensation of plastic against the developing bruise.

“Fucking psychopath,” he whimpers, turning the tub to find a cold patch.

“Don’t call me that,” the gunman mumbles, watching from outside the car.

“The fuck else am I meant to call you?”

The captor watches the red-head from the shadow he casts against the sun. “Kylo. Kylo Ren.”

“Hux,” the other says by reflex. With the tub warmed, he drops it onto the floor. Then, he frowns. “Where did you get that?"

“Bought it,” Kylo says, closing the backseat door.

Light falls down onto the passenger’s seat and a glossy, black leather wallet winks in the sun, gutted of its contents.

Hux sees his name glimmer on a credit card between the scrunched-up bills. He grits his teeth. “You fucking piece of—”

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was meant to post this a week later but im drunk and in a good mood

_Six hours ago_

_San Francisco, California_

The walls are glass, reaching from the ceiling to the floor, painted blue and orange by the setting sun. Clothes are thrown over luxurious leather armchairs and couches. Paper bills are scattered over the rucked carpets. The stench of women’s perfume and sweat permeates the penthouse.

Somewhere, music thumps faintly. Broken glass is scattered over the bar, sticky with drink and lipstick. Ice cubes are becoming sludge on the floor, dripping down the stairs leading down to the doors out to the terrace.

Deckchairs guard a blow-up toy plagued swimming pool. One chair is overturned, another too close to the edge of lapping water and one is occupied by a sprawled man. Dressed only in pink and blue striped shorts, he has his head tipped back and bare feet outstretched toward the pool. Half empty bottles of alcohol surround him.

Crossing his ankles, Kylo listens to the circling helicopters. The air is warm and his mind his hazy. He’ll probably regret falling asleep outside, but he decides to deal with the consequences later.

A phone buzzes inside the apartment. Kylo jerks up, feet kicking the overflowing water. The sky is already dark. Kylo doesn’t remember sleeping.

The phone continues to buzz.

“Shut u—up,” Kylo groans, rubbing his eyes.

The buzzing doesn’t stop.

“Shut up.” He points at the glass doors.

After a few moments the call ends.

The buzzing starts up again.

On the third call, Kylo gets up from the deckchair. Stumbling through the terrace doors into the apartment, Kylo shuts off the sound system and fumbles for his leather jacket thrown under a coffee table. The phone is still buzzing by the time Kylo pulls it free of a pocket.

The number is unknown. Kylo picks it up. “Yeah?”

“Kylo,” says a woman, hushed. “Where are you?”

“Phasma?” Kylo throws aside the jacket, wincing from the building migraine. “Why you whisperin’?”

“ _Where are you_?” Phasma snaps, keeping her voice low.

“Home? Where else?” Kylo presses the phone between his ear and shoulder as he finds a wear softened t-shirt amid the scattered clothing. He is surprised to discover it’s a pyjama top.

“You need to get out.” Something panicked is echoing behind Phasma’s words. It makes Kylo pause.

“Why?”

“They know—” The words are interrupted by Kylo pulling the t-shirt over his head. “—you need to go!”

“Know what?”

“That you failed to kill him.”

“Who?”

“ _Solo_. You dim fuck!” Phasma sighs, agitated. “They know. Someone told Snoke.”

“Are you kiddin’?” Kylo keep his voice easy and casual, but if Phasma was standing beside him she would see that his hands are trembling. “Solo is a pile of mincemeat at the bottom of the ocean,” he tells her.

“They know that you let him go, Kylo.” Phasma’s voice is increasingly desperate and it’s all Kylo needs to know to understand that this is not a joke. “They are going to come after you. Get out of the fucking house and _run_.”

Kylo looks out of the window where the helicopters are drifting over the city. He laughs. “Yeah right.”

The doorbell trills. A cold sweat breaks over Kylo’s skin.

“That’ll be the pizza,” he says with a grin. “G’night Phasma!” Her words are drowning on the other end of the line as Kylo quickly speaks over her, “Thanks for the entertainment!”

He ends the call and the phone is thrown aside onto a couch. It bounces over the cushions.

The bell rings again and Kylo reaches under the coffee table, feeling for the line where timber connects. He slides his hand down until his fingers bump on the metal body of a shotgun. He unlatches it from the hooks and takes the box attached beside the firearm. He dumps the ammo cartridges into the pockets of his shorts.

Another insistent prod to the doorbell.

“I’m coming, I’m coming! Kylo calls out as he cracks the shotgun and checks if it’s loaded.

Keeping the weapon close to his side, finger on the trigger, Kylo approaches the door.

Standing out of reach of the incoming, Kylo turns the key. He goes to press on the handle but it is ripped out of his hands as the door is flung open.

Two gunshots propel through the apartment, shattering the glass shelves of the bar. Bottles break on the floor. Gloved hands bracing a handgun appear through the door.

Snapping his hand forward, Kylo grasps the wrists and wrenches the intruder forward, startling the weapon out of their hands. Flinging the man in front of him, Kylo grasps his neck in the chokehold of his arm, using him as a shield as bullets pelt the air.

Seizing with every hit, the human shield falls limp in Kylo’s grip as he fires at the two assailants standing in the threshold. One man falls, collarbone shattered. Dropping the shotgun, Kylo throws the corpse he is holding at the remaining attacker that continues to shoot.

The attacker topples and Kylo darts to pick up the discarded handgun. With two quick shots and blood pools on the floor.

There is no more movement.

In the silence, Kylo pushes the handgun into the waistband of his shorts and assesses the intruders.

There can’t be a mistake. These henchmen belong to Snoke. However, if he wanted Kylo out of the way, Snoke wouldn’t have only sent three very poorly trained men.

Wasting no time, Kylo takes the dropped shotgun and searches for something to wear on his feet. Unfortunately, the nearest thing is a pair of bright yellow poolside flip-flops (that Kylo doesn’t even remember owning).

Slipping on the sandals, Kylo steps over the bodies, trots out of the door and to the staircase. Feet barely touching the steps, he takes two at a time, eyes darting when he hears the elevator shaft rumble.

The lobby is clear when Kylo makes his way down. He takes a moment as he pushes through the revolving doors to shift his shoulders into an easy slouch. Kylo’s steps fall into a casual amble and the shotgun under his arm is no more than a rolled-up newspaper.

When Kylo walks out into the night shadowed streets, he knows no one will take a second glance at him or the firearm he is holding in plain view (double standards, huh).

Kylo ambles down the sloping pavement as a glossy, black SUV rounds the building and halts outside the lobby that Kylo just left. He disappears down the road as men in dark suits get out of the car and walk toward the door.

Once out of sight, Kylo sets off at a run, his footsteps slapping on the walkway, arms swinging wildly. Streetlamps flicker over his receding figure, disappearing somewhere in the suburbs.

Soon, it will be discovered that Kylo is gone and the word will relay to Snoke. Before he knows it, there will be mercenaries crawling all over San Francisco. Kylo won’t be able to make it far, not without a car. He can’t use his own; it doesn’t take a genius to realise that there is GPS tracking on it that will lead Snoke on Kylo’s tail.

Public transport is equally dangerous; surveillance cameras are a tool for the crime syndicates. So, it remains for Kylo to steal a car and hope that the theft will remain unconnected to him.

Kylo crosses the road as a black sedan pulls up outside a house. The headlamps shut off as the engine rumbles into silence.

Under the fluorescent streetlights, it’s visible that there is only the driver inside the car. The man is slumped back in his seat, eyes closed and breathing deep like he is sleeping.

Kylo turns and walks down the street toward the parked vehicle. He slips the shotgun down his hand.

Stopping on the left side of the car, Kylo raps his knuckles on the window. “Hey, can you help me out?”

The driver looks up blearily. The man is all bone and no muscle and doesn’t appear to be carrying a weapon. Kylo could overpower him.

The window rolls down slowly, stopping at the midway point. “What?” the man asks,

Kylo leans up close, placing his free hand on the glass. “You see—”

A hand strikes into the car and grabs the man by his hair, slamming his head against the steering wheel.

Eyes roll back into the skull. The man thumps back into the seat – unconscious.

Kylo opens the door and places the shotgun onto the dashboard. Shoving his hands into the inner pockets of the man’s suit jacket and trousers, Kylo searches him. Finding the wallet, he riffles it.

There is little cash, mostly credit cards, crumpled receipts and expired memberships. Kylo curses; he’ll have to take the poor fuck with him instead of dumping him over someone’s garden fence.

Rummaging further, Kylo finds no sign that might imply the man has family. There isn’t even a picture on the lock screen of his phone except for a drab pre-set gradient. 

Snorting at the name printed on the driver’s license, Kylo pockets all the contents and strips the tie of the man’s neck, using it to bind his wrists in an uncomplicated knot.

With some manoeuvring, Kylo manages to shove the man onto the backseat. His head cracks on the window before thumping on the door handle. Kylo winces.

“That’s gonna bruise,” mutters Kylo as he slams the key into the ignition switch.

The engine hums in the empty street. Headlamps glare as the car between the leaning houses, down the sloping road, toward the highways out of the city.

 

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: next chapter update is due on the 25th (sorry it's taking so long)

_Now_

_Winnemucca, Nevada_

The hot air is filled with dust motes that catch in the sunlight. Hux wakes up groggy in the stuffy cocoon of the car, unaware of how he fell asleep.

For a moment, he lies askew across the backseats, staring up at the roof. Slowly, it trickles into his head that the vehicle is not moving.

Hux pushes himself up sharply. He looks over at the driver’s seat.

It’s empty.

Squishing himself between the seats, Hux scrambles over the handbreak and thumps down behind the steering wheel. Deliriously, he fumbles for the key. The ignition switch is empty.

Cold breaks over his skin. Hux forces himself to calm down. Breathe. In and out… In and out… He closes his eyes. Slowly, Hux manages himself back to a steady heartbeat.

All of that goes to shit the moment he opens his eyes and notices the broad back of his captor who is sat on the hood of the car. He doesn't appear aware of Hux.

Gripping onto his calm, Hux peers out of the window and squints at the sign of a discount liquor store. A little further down the road there is a closed bar and just behind it is a grocery store. A small, sand plagued town crowds around the car, bleached by the midday sun.

Maybe Hux could make a run for it. Find a police station and get the psychopath thrown into a cell.

Hux begins to rummage through the car for the shotgun. The glovebox is empty and there is nothing under the seats but scraps of paper and takeaway boxes that have been collecting for months.

Steadying himself, Hux reaches for the door handle. On the count of three, he pulls.

It’s locked.

Hux tries again. Another desperate tug. Hux hisses and punches the door frame.

“Everything alright back there?”

Hux looks up. His hands are clammy on the sweat slicked handle.

His captor, Kylo, is looking over at him. His hair is bundled into a lopsided knot with a pink sparkly hair tie. In one hand he is holding glazed donut and in the other the shotgun that rests against his shoulder.

The sugar-coated lips pull into a self-assured grin.

Hux swallows.

Shoving aside a half empty box of donuts, Kylo stands from the hood and rounds the car. Casually, he licks the sugar off his fingers, popping his lips around each digit.

“Your head okay?” Kylo ducks down to look into the car, one arm on the roof and ass out into the street.

Hux shrugs. For all he knows, he is bleeding out inside because a maniac decided to play Ping-Pong with his skull.

“Well, it better be.” Kylo glances down the road. “I’m not taking you to a hospital.”

Hux peels his hand from the handle and stares ahead at the shop windows. He is completely fucked. To think that Hux was planning to spend the night with a bottle of bourbon before a day of arguing with building contractors. Laughable.

Now, Hux is in the middle of nowhere. Kidnapped, and possibly due to be murdered.

“Besides,” Kylo says cheerfully. “I’ve got a little task for you.” With a smirk, he watches Hux blanch. “See the cashpoint over there.” Kylo points with the shotgun. “I want you to take your card, go over and withdraw as much cash as you can. Then, you get back to the car. Simple, right?”

“What makes you think I won’t run?”

Tapping the shotgun on his shoulder, Kylo scrunches up his nose in thought. “Well, if you run, I will shoot you in the kneecaps. Maybe you will manage to get me arrested, but you will never walk again. However, if you do as I tell you, you will be safe. Maybe a couple of hundred dollars short, but whole.”

“Why don’t you do it yourself?” All Kylo needs is to gain information.

“Cameras,” Kylo explains. “I need you to cover me. You think you can do that?”

There isn’t much of an option to say no. Hux nods stiffly and watches Kylo’s smirk light up.

Hux takes his card from the butchered wallet as Kylo unlocks the car. Warily, he steps out onto the sidewalk and, with a brief glance at Kylo, he sets off down the street.

This is Hux’s chance to run; there is a crossroad up ahead, he can take a sharp turn and make a break from the psychopath. But just as Hux begins to pick up the pace, he hears the ammo rattle in the pockets of Kylo’s shorts.

Hux hates to admit that, as he stops by the ATM, his hands are shaking. Sliding in his card, Hux sees out of the corner of his eye the brick-wall-solid figure of Kylo leaning against the hood of his car.

Hux feels violated. Even though a couple of hundred dollars won’t damage his balance and the sedan was meant to go up for sale within a week, he feels like a body used to a means end.

Whining with sedated rage, Hux imagines scrunching up the paper bills and throwing them to the sidewalk. But he manages to bring himself back to his senses and stuff the money into his pockets.

“That’s a good boy!” Kylo cheers when Hux reproaches the car. “Have a donut.”

A sticky ring of pastry is shoved into Hux’s mouth as his pockets are robbed of the bills and card. He chokes on the donut as he is prodded back into the backseat.

The door is shut behind Hux and Kylo climbs into the driver’s seat. The shotgun is placed on the sun heated dashboard and the ignition key is turned as Kylo eats the last of the glazed donuts, swiping the sugar off his lips.

Hux stares at the handgun shoved into the waistband of Kylo’s shorts.

The car pulls off the curbs and steals back onto the highway.

The sky remains cloudless as the town falls away behind the horizon and the desert opens with the rare speckling of farms dropped beneath the mountains. The wind rushes into the car through the open windows, carding past Hux, pulling at his blood stained suit.

So far, none of Hux’s intrusive thoughts (including slamming Kylo’s own head on the steering wheel or grappling for the gun) have provided a useful means by which to escape. All that Hux can be thankful for is that he is not jammed the boot with his arms and legs duct taped.

“Why do you need me anyway?” Hux asks in the desert silence that is rucked by the tremble of the car engine. “Are you going to sacrifice me to one of those new age cults? Or are you going to use me as a hostage to get money?”

Kylo snorts. The mottle of his black greasy hair thumps on the headrest of his seat. “Don’t flatter yourself.” Kylo glances back at Hux with laughter in his eyes. “This isn’t about you. If it wasn’t your obsession with keeping a slim wallet, I would’ve left you at your front door.”

“Then you could just take the car and let me go.”

“No. Can’t do that. I can’t trust you not to go talking to the police. Also. Money.”

“People will come looking for me.”

“And that’s exactly why I will need you to text someone to tell them that you will be taking some time off work.”

“Text?”

“I’m not letting you call.” Kylo turns his head, frowning at Hux as if offended. “I’m not that stupid. You will dictate, and I will write.” He looks back to the road, grinning.

Hux bites down on an urge to put a fist through the smug face. But the thought of the car rolling pulls him back.

Instead, Hux watches the red mountain tops pass and mutters, “Millie will be worried.”

“Millie? Your girlfriend? Wife?” Kylo sounds a little troubled.

“No, my cat.”

Kylo throws a brief glance at the review mirror. He looks perplexed. “Right. Cat.” He double-takes. “You don’t seem like the cat type. Or any animal type."

“Yeah, and I would say you don’t seem like the kidnapping type. But that would be a lie.”

Kylo doesn’t respond and they fall into silence.

For hours the horizon is nothing but the red desert and grasslands that are tracked with dirt roads. Hux stays in his quiet irritation as he watches the sky change colour above the unending drawl of the featureless landscape.

Sometime later, after hours on the road, rain begins to patter the dry ground. Humidity clouds inside the car and clings to skin like sweat as fat globs of raindrops roll across the windshield.

Eventually, the car pulls into a rest stop off the side of the road. There is a gas station, a convenience store and a casino – of all things.

While Kylo refuels the sedan, seeing he has no escape point or money for the payphone, Hux is allowed to use the restroom.

By the time Hux gets back to the car, he is drenched: flecks of blood are smeared on the collar of his shirt and wet patches grow on the seat under his ass. Kylo doesn’t glance up; he is sat behind the wheel with his legs thrown diagonally across the dashboard. He is flicking through Hux’s phone.

Kylo’s skin is shimmering with rainwater but he seems comfortable in the claustrophobic humidity. Hux, grudgingly, feels jealous of the poolside clothing; his worn-in suit is clinging to him like a soggy second skin and, in the heat, he forgets to be angry about the phone.

“Someone’s popular,” mutters Kylo as he scrolls through the texts.

Hux looks over Kylo’s shoulder before the phone is snatched out of view. Despite having saved contacts, he doesn’t even know those people.

“Are you a banker or something?” Kylo asks.

“Architect.”

“Ah. Upper class breeding,” Kylo sighs, jabbing the phone screen. “Explains the stick-up-the-ass name. I mean— _‘Armitage’_. Who even—?”

“Says Kylo Ren the criminal. Did you pick it out yourself in middle school? What are you anyway, in a mob?”

Kylo considers Hux with a blank face. “You could say that.”

Hux blinks once. Twice. “A—and what are you running from?” he switches subject. “You are on the run, right?”

Kylo turns back to the phone, ignoring Hux. “It’s none of your business.”

“Oh no.” Hux leans over the driver’s seat into the scant space between Kylo and him. “I think you made it my business the moment you knocked me out. I want to know what this idiocy is the result of.”

Refusing to shift, Kylo gives Hux a cold look. “I made a mistake,” he tells him. “And now my boss is making me pay.”

An engine whines as an overloaded jeep pulls into the puddle swamped parking lot. It’s a ridiculous sight, strapped with a multitude of modifications. Hux watches as a man and a woman climb out and walk toward the gas station kiosk.

Fingers pinch Hux’s chin and turn him sharply to face Kylo.

“Don’t do something you’ll regret,” Kylo tells him with a sharp smile in the dim light of the rainstorm. “I’m _really_ tired and I want to get to a motel without a hassle.” Kylo’s nail digs in under Hux’s bottom lip. “Are you gonna get in my way?”

Hux stares at him, wincing against the touch. “No.” He wrenches his face free.

“Good!” Kylo beams. “So, what should I tell this client about that chic, hipster apartment on the San Francisco coast which you won’t be able to work on for another week?”

After coordinating the most appeasing text to explain why Hux is detained from work, he coaxes Kylo into typing out a message to his neighbour to look after Millie.

The rain does not stop by the time they pull out from the gas station. But at least, now Hux can look at the mirror pools of water on the dirt fields of withered grass as Kylo drives. Thunderclouds slowly lumber into the east as sleep crawls over Hux’s mind.

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!! TRIGGER WARNING !!!
> 
> this is spoilery, but this chapter contains attempted rape. nothing actually occurs but i felt i should add it just in case

_2 hours later_

_Location: un-fucking-certain_

The sky cleared into a sprawl of scarlet over the deserts, but the remains muggy like a film of oil on the water.

Cracking open his third energy drink, Kylo walks back from the gas station to the car. His halts a few feet away and sips the overflowing liquid off the top of the can. His arms shake. He has been shivering non-stop for hours.

Walking up to the car, Kylo leans down to level himself with Hux. They lock eyes. Hux’s face scrunches up in fury. Kylo winks and the frown on the ashy face deepens.

The whole ride Hux has been sitting in the furthest corner of the car from Kylo, glaring at the back of his head. Kylo had tried to tell Hux to get some sleep (this won’t be over soon), but it was just a waste of time.

Kylo thought he wouldn’t budge, but, about an hour ago, Hux’s head began to drop against the window.

Slurping down the rest of the drink, Kylo opens his door and slumps back behind the wheel. From the pocket of his shorts, he pulls out a cupcake shaped air freshener and ties the string around the rear-view mirror mount. In the reflection, Hux is yawning himself awake, eyes red and shoulders bunched.

“Get some sleep, darlin’,” Kylo says, tapping the cupcake into a swing. “It’s gonna be some time before you get a real bed.”

“I’m fine,” Hux tells him even as his eyelids droop.

“Sure. Your funeral.”

 

 

_1 hour later_

_Only Lord fucking knows where_

Neon reflects in the puddles of the motel parking lot. The light rain continues to speckle, distorting the flashing signs through the windshield as Hux sleeps on the backseat – cheek smeared on the door, shoulder cramped up and legs folded.

There is a knock on the window and Hux is blinking up at Kylo who is stood on the other side. A single key on a wire ring with a wooden cut-out of a pink sweetheart reading ‘14’ is swinging around his index finger.

Behind Kylo, there is a pastel two storey building illuminated by strips of yellow, blue and pink neon. Some windows are drawn pitch by curtains, but they don’t reach the bottom and strips of light peel through.

“I told the guy at the front desk you are my wife, hope you don’t mind, darlin’,” Kylo says as he opens the door, letting Hux drop onto the tarmac.

Hux grunts as he crawls up onto his feet, looped out on sleep. “Not at all, _honey_ ,” he mutters and rips the door from Kylo’s hand, slamming it closed.

Under the cover of the motel building, they climb the staircase to the second floor. As Kylo passes the doors, muttering the numbers, sounds come through the cracked windows.

Fumbles of footsteps, voices muffled by distance, the creaking of a mattress – slow like they don’t want people to know.

Hux walks into Kylo who is struggling with his slipping fingers on the key. Kylo slams his knee into the door and the key finally turns.

Stumbling through, Kylo doesn’t bother to switch on the lights. He waits for Hux to trails in before shutting the door.

The room is plain; there is a single bed and a clutter of none descript furniture. The neon haze falls through the curtains that Kylo closes as Hux trips onto the first bed.

He can hear Kylo puttering about, muttering something under his breath. But Hux can’t make out the words. He guesses they don’t matter very much anyway.

 

_Drip. Drip. Drip._

A line of cold runs down Hux’s ear. He winces and turns, squashing his cheek against the hard pillow.

_Drip._

Hux shakes his head. He reaches up to swat away the cold drop but his wrists meet on his back and wont lift any further.

Hux turns his wrists and feels the sharp edge of duct tape cut into his skin. Cursing, still mostly half asleep, Hux thumps his head against the rim of the bath.

He fucked up. There isn’t an excuse. He should’ve never let his guard down.

The motel bathroom is dimly lit by deep yellow light. Hux must’ve slept the entire day while Kylo took all his cash and drove away, leaving Hux to be found in the bath by some maid.

He isn’t entirely wrong.

The door into the bathroom opens and Kylo strides in with the shotgun on one shoulder. He smiles down at Hux – who can’t speak from the tape over his mouth – and waggles his fingers in ‘hello’ as he goes to the mirror.

“Glad to see you are back in the world of the living,” Kylo cheers and sets the shotgun aside on the sink. He brushes back his damp hair and smoothes an unseen blemish on his face. “Gotta say, I really did think you were dead. You didn’t even make a noise when I picked you up.”

Hux retaliates; he is flopping around the bath like a beached fish, screeching through the tape.

“Now, now, darlin’,” Kylo hushes him. “No need. I got and car but I’ll take the rest of your cash. Someone’ll probably find you within the hour. So, don’t worry about it.”

Seething behind the tape, Hux glares at Kylo as he approaches the bathtub.

“Listen.” Kylo sighs, looking momentarily lost. “I _am_ sorry about this mess. I am. _Really_.” Hux doesn’t look convinced. “It was mainly my fault and you just got caught in the way—”

Hux isn’t listening anymore because the bathroom door is opening behind Kylo. There isn’t even a squeak when a man steps through.

Hux starts screaming. He kicks his taped legs, trying to turn Kylo around or just make him do _something_. But Kylo just keeps talking and talking until the black plastic base of a gun hits the back of his head. He crumples to the lino with a little groan.

Hux whimpers into silence.

The door closes.

The intruder looks Hux up and down with distaste. “So, he still has a time for whores, even when he’s running with his tail between his legs.”

Hux pushes himself up with his taped legs against the edge of the bathtub.

“I’ve seen streetwalkers better looking than you.” The gun is held out, a finger on the trigger.

“I never understood what Kylo liked about this whole—” The man vaguely gestures with the gun. “Thing. How much did he pay you, huh? For the whole set up? He's been known to be into this, hasn't he.”

The man steps around the bathtub. The muzzle of the gun scratches the rim and Hux shrinks away.

“What do you think? Should I give it a go?”

The cold plastic and steel tips up Hux’s chin. He seethes behind the duct tape gag.

There is a grin of greened teeth and the bindings around Hux’s knees are gripped like a handle. He screams as he is dragged out of the bath. The terror is more real than when he woke up at the back of his own car to find Kylo looking at him through the rear-view mirror.

Hux falls onto the bathroom floor, his head and back breaking on the floorboards under the lino. He keeps kicking but his ankles are gripped by the berth of two wide palms and he is thrown onto his chest.

Using his shoulders, Hux tries to twist away as his chest burns. Tackled, he is pressed down to the floor. A knife cuts apart his belt.

A wheeze is heaved out of Hux’s chest when he is shoved down by a palm between his shoulder blades. Hux can feel the heavy, hot, stale breath falling onto the back of his neck. Calloused hands start to yank at the waistband of his trousers when suddenly the man lifts up and a sound claps through the bathroom.

The weight drops down onto Hux. He bites his tongue to stop a scream.

Movement hushes somewhere, but not from the attacker; the man is lying unconscious on top of Hux, arms limp, the gun discarded.

The dead weight begins to roll off Hux. He peels open his scrunched up eyes and turns to see over his shoulder Kylo crouching above the unconscious intruder. Dazed from the crack to his skull, Kylo is patting down the man, fumbling through the pockets and pulling out belongings.

There is a burner phone stashed in the inner pocket of the man’s coat, slick and simple like the back of a beetle. Kylo flicks through it and throws it aside. The casing cracks.

After taking up the gun, Kylo notices Hux, still lying there on the floor with tape silencing him. He is trying hard not to cry in front of Kylo.

“Shit,” Kylo mutters, scrambling toward Hux. “Shit, shit, shit— I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” The tape is ripped off Hux, first from his ankles and knees, then his wrists. The last piece he takes off himself.

“Did he do anything to you? Are you okay?” Kylo babbles like he is out of his mind, helping Hux to sit up. “Are you—”

The cold strike of a palm against his cheek silences Kylo.

“Are you a fucking _moron_!” Hux shouts. He takes back his hands and pushes himself against the bathtub. “Didn’t you hear him? You can’t even manage your mess and you drag other people into it! I could have _died_!”

Hux breathes heavily, seething the heat of held back rage. Kylo is quiet, holding his red stung cheek.

“You are going to sort this bullshit out,” Hux tells him, “or I will shoot you myself if all of this was for nothing.”

Kylo says nothing again and goes to pick up the intruder’s gun again in his red embarrassment but it slips out of his hand. Hux gives out a sound like he is about to cry in frustration and stands. He grabs the handgun off the floor.

“Finish him,” Hux says and shakily walks out of the bathroom.

What remains of his belongings are spread out on one of the beds. Hux collects it all and shoves it inside his pockets. He ignores the flickering notifications on the phone screen.

A gun shot sounds from the back of the motel room.

“Come on,” Hux calls out, gun and car keys in hand. “I don’t think we have long.”

When he turns, Kylo is stood in the doorway of the bathroom. There are speckles of red on his chin and shirt. The shotgun dangles loose in his hand.

“Was that man sent by your boss?”

Kylo shrugs. “I guess. If he survived, he would’ve gone to call the cavalry.”

“The fuck did you do to get people on your tail like that.”

“Let someone live.”

Hux expects Kylo to explain himself but after moments of passing silence, he realises that it’s good as he is going to get.

“Let’s go.” Hux walks out of the motel room without looking back.

Outside, the sky is casted over by dark blue thunder clouds. The neon lights of the motel are burning up again. Other than Hux and Kylo, nobody else is out.

They walk down the staircase to the parking lot that is mostly full. Hux spots his car and quickly darks across the lot when the back of his jacket is grabbed and yanked back toward the stairs.

“What is your problem!” Hux spits as he batters away Kylo’s hands who isn’t paying any attention to him. “Do you want us to get out of here or not?”

Kylo slaps a hand over Hux’s mouth and sharply hushes him. He nods toward the block building of the reception down the lot. Hux huffs but follows the gesture.

Outside the reception, there is a several parked black cars. There are darkly clothed figures loitering around them and glancing up toward the second storey of the motel – toward the row of doors from which Kylo and Hux came from.

“In other words,” Kylo whispers, “we are sincerely and dearly fucked.”

“Not yet.” Hux pushes down Kylo’s hand that holds the shotgun raised and walks out into the parking lot.

Kylo hisses a protest but Hux is already several feet ahead of him, walking casually like he hasn’t noticed the men. Kylo hurries behind Hux, mimicking the nonchalance.

The front of the car faces the exit of the lot – precisely where the mercenaries are stood – and then Hux opens the boot lid which hides him from direct view. Inside the boot, there is just about enough space to fit a grown man.

“Get in.” Hux gestures to Kylo.

The yellow flip-flops skid over the tarmac. Kylo looks between Hux and the boot. “ _What_?”

“I’m pretty sure this is the only way to get your out of here,” Hux tells him impatiently. “So, get _in_.”

Kylo looks torn. He doesn’t trust Hux, but there isn’t any choice.

 

A car pulls out of the parking lot, slowly turning to begin the slow cruise toward the exit. Hux is sat back low in the seat, looking ahead as he passes a group of darkly clothed men and women who loiter outside parked cars.

Hux doesn’t dare look. Sweat is burning him all over and the hand on the wheel is white from how hard he holds it to stop the tremors.

But at the last moment, Hux turns and sees the driver of the last car. It’s a woman with ice pale hair and equally bright eyes. She is looking straight at him. But the car keeps on moving and the woman’s eyes pass over onto the backseat of the sedan.

The beat of a moment and Hux is out of her sight.

Wheels screech on the tarmac as the car turns around the corner and out onto the road. Hux doesn’t think as he presses down onto the gas.

Only when the motel has fallen far behind in this dusty town filled with run-down buildings that Hux looks into the rear-view mirror. The road is empty.

Hux takes a deep breath as he sags into the seat. He runs a hand through his dirty, sand clogged hair while with the other he holds the steering wheel.

He can run. Nobody will stop him. He can drive to a police station, explain what happened and have the criminal that kidnapped him imprisoned. The murder was not his fault.

Hux looks down at the gun on the passenger seat.

He groans, scrubbing his free hand over his face.

Hux no longer knows what he is doing.  

 

 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> two chapters to go my dudes. i cant make any promises about when the next update will be, but i hope it's either the end of next month of early june
> 
> @elfriniol: millie is currently trying to dismantle an overfilled automatic cat feeder. she is having a ball

_An uncertain amount of time has passed_

A mile out from the suburbs of a small town, somewhere between rundown stores and farms, a car drives in old layers of dust. The sky is overcast with dark clouds and light rain is beginning to patter down on the tarmac.

Slowly, the car pulls into a halt. After a moment, the driver opens the door and gets out. Hunched, feet dragging, he walks to the boot and pops it open. From inside, a rumpled figure unfolds and sits on his haunches. They stare at each other.

The driver offers a hand. Wobbling, the figure gets out from the boot. The driver watches as the other gets into the passenger seat. He wanders back to the open door, but doesn’t get inside.

Instead, the man keeps on walking.

Twenty paces pass and the man sat in the car glares at the shrinking figure. He sighs and climbs over to the wheel and shuts the door. The car rolls off the tarmac.

With a shallow press on the gas, the car is beside the walker. The passenger door is opened, cutting off his path. The man looks at it blankly and side steps around the door.

The car speeds up, blocking off the man’s way again.

“Hux,” says the driver. “Get in. Please.”

 

The coffee silt circles the bottom of the cup as Hux tilts it from side to side. He looks just as much of a mess as Kylo who is barefoot and covered in speckles of drying blood. But it doesn’t seem to be concerning any of the diner staff.

Neon of the signs and the overhead lights reflect on the empty plates. Kylo is drawing circles in spilled salt. Hux is on the fourth refill of coffee and he can hear his legs tapping without consent.

“So, what now?” he asks.

There is a silence in which the neon flickers and someone walks past the table, oblivious of both men. The cars hush outside and everything keeps moving, despite of what they do.

“I don’t know,” Kylo says. His finger wobbles the circle of salt. “You go home, I keep running. Get a plane out of here, start with cities beginning with ‘M’. See what happens.”

“That’s not a plan.”

Kylo looks up at Hux. “It’s the best I’ve got.” He keeps staring, even as Hux turns to watch the headlamps flash outside – trying to ignore the eyes tracking him.

“Hux,” Kylo speaks again. “Why didn’t you panic back at the motel?”

Taking a sip from his glass of water, Hux gives a one shouldered shrug.

“Most people would have panicked or given up entirely,” Kylo tells him. “You are a civilian. You should have spiralled off into a meltdown, at least.”

“Yeah, well, architects aren’t born with clipboards and degrees.” Hux tries to pull a smile. “Some of us had lives, once.”

Kylo grins at that, hiding his laugh behind his fingers. “You really are something, aren’t you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing.”

Hux straightens up when a waiter comes up offering a refill of coffee. He accepts it gratefully.  

As Hux takes the first swallow of hot coffee, Kylo swipes the salt off the table edge onto his palm and onto a crumb deserted plate.

“When we go our ways tomorrow morning,” Kylo tells him, “if you don’t mind, I’ll take the rest of the cash and leave. You can keep the car. I’ll pay you back. Eventually.”

“ _If_ I don’t mind?” Hux laughs soberly. “Not using the ‘H’ word anymore?”

“There isn’t much use, is there?”

Hux frowns, his jaw askew, and sets the cup down with a harsh clack.

The bill is payed and they leave the diner. They pass a family on the way in through the doors, the kid stumbles, staring at Kylo’s bare feet as he walks out onto the concrete walkway.

Hux is coiled deep in the passenger seat as Kylo takes the car out onto the road to find a motel to stay for the night.

Kylo knows something is going to bubble up soon, but they are well past Kylo duct taping Hux’s wrists together and telling him to shut up. So, whatever it is, it’s unavoidable.

 

The static of the neon buzzes in the air. The midnight sun of the motel sign flickers through the window, winking at the occupants of the room.

Counted cash lies on a bed, a phone glows in the gloom. A gun glints like the back of a snake. Water is dripping in the bathroom, landing on Kylo’s shoulder as he lies in the tub.

Twitch twitch twitch his toes go as he watches lights pass on the ceiling.

Everything that Kylo has been working toward has been destroyed within a night. This safety net, a cocoon of knowledge that he is irreplaceable, has been broken and he has no backup.

No wonder people like Phasma built throwaway identities and safe houses if everything falls to shit. Just goes to show that Kylo was never prepared.

He struggles to think when everything went wrong. Should he have shot his father when he had the chance? (This entire situation could have been avoided and he would still be home, suffering a three-day hangover.) Or does this go all the way back to missed classes and spending time with the wrong people? (He would have gone to college, or maybe he would be following the tracks of the family businesses.)

Luck is that Kylo’s father is not stupid enough to stay in the country. Luck is that Kylo doesn’t know where he is. Luck is that Kylo does not take his safety for granted. _Luck_ is that Kylo chose Hux for his hapless hostage.

The motel room door opens and closes. Footsteps clatter through to the bathroom. Speaking of the devil.

Hux looks unsteady on his feet. He holds himself against the doorframe and considers Kylo with glassy eyes. His clothes are worn through, his hands are shaking. Kylo knows better than be concerned or to ask where Hux has been.

“I’m leaving tomorrow,” Hux whispers hoarsely, looking nowhere specific. “Back to San Francisco.”

“Okay,” Kylo replies, not bothering to make himself a little more presentable in the bathtub.

Hux swallows through a hiccup. “I hate you,” he says.

“That’s fine.”

“You are a piece of shit.” Hux’s watery eyes are fixed on Kylo.

“I know.”

“And a fucking idiot.” Hux sucks in a harsh breath. His eyes look red and cheeks blotchy. Kylo hopes he isn’t going to start crying. “I hate you so, so much.”

Kylo shrugs and knows in an instant that it was the wrong thing to do; Hux’s face crumbles and tears start to burn as he raises a hand and strikes Kylo across the legs.

“I hate you!” Hux shouts and keeps hitting Kylo, across the calves, knees, thighs, and by the third strike Kylo is shrinking away. “I hate you! I _hate_ you! I _hate you_!” Hux keeps on shouting, face red with tears.

Kylo doesn’t catch himself in time when he is grabbed by the ankles and pulled. He falls, flailing, into the belly of the bathtub and feels something cold and flat leave a stinging print on the back of his thigh.

Hux doesn’t stop his drunk, blubbered shouting as he continues to hit Kylo until his hand is kicked and a yellow flip-flop hits the bathroom window.

Hux stands over Kylo, heaving and hiccupping. “I hate you so fucking much,” he whispers before leaning down over the tub, knees against the rim, and kissing Kylo with his scorching, bitter tasting lips.

There is no need to think as Kylo takes Hux’s wet cheeks between his palms and pulls him in. Fuck it. If this is the last time Kylo sees him, he might as well make the best of this and the stupid arrangement between them.

Hux climbs into the tub over Kylo, breaking the kiss to stare feverishly. Kylo sinks down, letting Hux loom over him in the shadows of the bathroom.

“After tonight, I never want to see you again,” Hux says before kissing Kylo, pulling the collar of his t-shirt askew as he chases Kylo’s lips.

“That’s fine,” Kylo tells him breathlessly when Hux allows him air.

It’s sex, pure and simple. Kylo knows it as Hux bites his neck and holds him down by the shoulders. Hux is not drunk enough to be unaware of what he is doing; he has every opportunity to get away. He just chooses not to.

Kylo’s head feels like it’s filled with cotton when he moves his hands to Hux’s hips, spreading his fingers to cover the sharp bones and the meagre width of his ass. Kylo wishes they had more time and the situation was different to make this better for them both.

Later, Kylo knows he’ll laugh about the mess they were; the tub is too small for both of them, but Hux is hungry to bite every inch of Kylo he can get as he pushes his t-shirt to his armpits. Kylo lies back in the cold shell of the tub and lets him, feeling drunk from the taste that stains his tongue.

Hux’s lips are red on the tan skin of Kylo’s stomach, leaving brands of spit and blooming bites. He is tugging down Kylo’s short, scratching his teeth on the softness of Kylo’s belly. Even though Kylo had two beautiful women in his bed not three days ago, he can’t hold back the ache from the heat of another’s body.

Maybe Hux isn’t the worst. Besides, he makes a pretty sight; he is all alabaster skin and red hair, awkward jaw covered by days’ worth of stubble that is somehow endearing. In spite of the attitude and the violent streak, maybe in another situation, Kylo would have found himself seducing Hux in a hotel bar or at a lonely table in a restaurant.

Hux whines when he struggles to drag Ren’s shorts over his ass. His face thumps over the cotton of Kylo’s underwear.

“Do you even know what you’re doing?”

Hux looks up. His glare is spoiled by the spit dripping from his bottom lip.

“Just checking,” Kylo laughs as a hand slaps over his mouth and a wet tongue drags over his cock through his underwear.

Kylo lifts his feet to the rim of the tub, closing his thighs over Hux’s shoulders as he palms Kylo’s cock, squeezing before catching his lips around the head. Kylo lifts his hips to follow the heat of Hux’s mouth, but Hux grips Kylo’s thighs and pushes them aside as he crawls up over him.

Sloppy scores of teeth land on Kylo’s neck and he takes Hux’s hair into a fist, pulling it when he feels calloused fingers on his cock through the thin fabric of his underwear. Hux moves lazily, stroking hitched breaths out of Kylo’s chest like he is moving through a dream.

A kiss smudges over Kylo’s lips. Intoxicated, Kylo grips Hux’s jaw between his hands and bites his lip, drinking down his moans. Stupid decisions can be so sweet.

Kylo grabs Hux’s wrists when he feels a hand slip past the waistband of his underwear. Kylo sits up and Hux tumbles back, slipping in the white belly of the bathtub. Kylo reaches forward and gathers Hux’s skinny legs around his hips and stands, holding his eyes fixed on the tremble of Hux’s lips as hands catch on his shoulders.

Kylo steps out of the bath and feels the wall connect with Hux’s back through the echoing impact. Hux gulps for a breath. All of his confidence is lost under Kylo’s stare.

Hux jolts when his legs are dropped. Kylo slips to his knees, grasping Hux by the hips, and pushes up his shirt. Kylo presses his face against alabaster skin, mimicking Hux as he bares his teeth and bites.

Hands twist Kylo’s hair as he undoes Hux’s belt and zipper. He pries at the waistband of the underwear and eases it down over Hux’s dick. There is a press of pink between Kylo’s lips as he leans forward and licks his cock, feeling the heat of rushing blood as saliva drips.

Hux yelps, hips jerking against Kylo’s hands when he burrows his face against Hux’s crotch. Kylo winces as nails dug into his scalp and pushes out his tongue, dragging it from the base of Hux’s cock to his navel before ducking back and pressing his lips to the base.

Kylo watches Hux, feeling the flinches from the laps of his tongue, before closing his eyes and easing Hux’s cock into his mouth, tilting his head as he pushes down. Saliva drips thick from the sides of Kylo’s lips as he swallows heavily, pulling back before repeating the movement.

Digging his thumbs into the bones of Hux’s trembling hips, Kylo pushes against his gag reflex as he takes Hux’s cock to his throat. There is spit running down his chin and clammy hands hold his hair. Hux is becoming lost in the moment as he begins to fuck Kylo’s mouth, moaning at the wet sounds from overflowing saliva.

Kylo builds a gradual rhythm between the bobs of his head and the thrusts of Hux’s hips. It’s a challenge for Kylo to keep his eyes open as he watches flush cover Hux’s sweat sheened face that crumbles into pleasure resembling pain.

Forgetting himself for a moment, Kylo loses his tandem and doesn’t swallow when Hux’s cock reaches the back of his throat. He chokes, but it’s worth it as long as he gets to watch Hux fall into pieces under his hands and tongue.

Hux is uselessly drunk on pleasure and alcohol; his body is burning up and sweat is running down to his collar. He looks like he is on the brink of crying from the drag of Kylo’s tongue on his cock.

“Fuck— Fuck, yes—!” Hux sinks against the wall, held fast by the hands pinning his hips. His own fists are raised against the wall, nails digging red into the palms.

Kylo’s nose is pressed against Hux’s belly and his mouth is overflowing. He gags and winces. Hux is moaning into his hands.

Kylo backs off at the last moment and cum is spilling over his face. He closes his eyes and keeps his mouth open, curling his tongue over the pool of thick liquid that runs down his chin and throat.

Without anything holding him, Hux sinks down to the floor, legs sliding around Kylo who pushes his shorts down and strokes his own cock.

Face covered in cum, eyes fixed on Hux’s soft, flushed lips, Kylo lurches forward. Cum spills onto the motel bathroom floor and the waistband of Kylo’s shorts.

Sound of heavy breathing fill the hot air. Feet squeak on the lino as Hux tries to sit up and get out from under Kylo as he keels forward, thumping his head into Hux’s chest.

Everything is spinning in a slow dizzy dance like the entire room is drunk and verging onto vomiting into the toilet bowl. Which is exactly what Hux does the moment he manages to scramble out from under Kylo.

The sounds of retching with intermediate whimpers continue for several minutes. Kylo crawls toward Hux and mop him up with a dry towel that he found folded up (when that is done for, he gets a wad of toilet paper).

Stained clothes are dumped onto the floor as both Kylo and Hux stumble out from the bathroom. Hux crawls deliriously onto a bed and dumps himself under the musty covers.

Without looking up from his dent in the pillow, Hux lifts his arm with the duvet and says, “C’mere you goddamn fuck up.”

Breath is knocked out of Hux when a body drops against him. Not a moment passes before Kylo is snoring on Hux’s shoulder, drool and cum dripping from the corner of his lips.

Goddamit.

They are a mess.

 

 

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guess who is still alive?? THIS BITCH RIGHT HERE!!!!!!!!!!! (warning: this was written and edited drunk)

_10 hours later_

 

There is a knock at the door.

Maybe if Kylo still had some sense, he would’ve gone for the shotgun and went to the door. But, Hux is snoring against his arm and all sense just kind of… goes?

The knock comes twice as hard. Kylo unspools from the covers.

Hooking the unloaded shotgun on his fingers, Kylo stumbles up to the door. He doesn’t know what else he expected when he unlocks the door and sees Phasma with her hand raised to knock.

She is in her uniform: black suit, tapering into something casual, a plain shirt underneath without a tie. A pair of opaque shades hold back her platinum hair.

Phasma puts her hand down and says, “Thought you could use a change of clothes.” She shrugs a shoulder that is slung with a backpack.

“Oh, thank god!” Kylo sags against the door. He gestures for Phasma to come inside with the shotgun.

Hux hasn’t moved since Kylo crawled from under him. The snores don’t falter when Phasma dumps the pack onto a bed.

“So, who’s this one?” she asks, noting the scattered objects about her feet (bullet cartridges, money, snapped credit cards).

Kylo scratches his head with the barrel of the shotgun. “My hostage,” he says.

“Is _that_ what they call it now?”

“Fuck off.”

Hux turns on the bed and a foot is flung out from under the covers, kicking Kylo’s thigh. He whacks the lump of Hux’s ass in turn.

“Gettup, we have a guest.”

The foot disappears and the covers scrunch up higher.

“It could be an intruder trying to kill us.”

“Then tell them to fuckin’ do it!” Hux yells from the pillows. But then, he peels back the edge of the sheets. One puffy eye stares at Phasma and a mutter comes, “Good morning.”

“Sure is,” she agrees, unfazed. “You have the cavalry about an hour behind you. Maybe you should consider getting out of here. _Now_.”

That’s the cue for Kylo and Hux to get moving.

 

Cars are sparse in the parking lot. The sky is mostly clear except for the lost, drifting puffs of cloud.

Kylo is leaning against Phasma’s Mercedes, dressed in borrowed clothes, watching shadows play on the tarmac. He will cross the north border before ditching his identity and getting on a flight to Europe. Until then, Phasma is his only hope of getting anywhere.

In the brief minutes he had at the motel before Phasma was pushing him through the door, Kylo didn’t get another chance to speak with Hux. Besides, he gets the feeling Hux doesn’t have anything to say to him.

What would they even have to talk about? What would Kylo say to him?

‘Hey, I know we were out of our minds, but, maybe you wanna share a night again?’

‘I know I technically kidnapped you, but, I really like spending time with you?’

‘Maybe I have a feeling or two for you?’

None of it just goes.

A motel room door opens and shuts. Kylo looks up. The red of Hux’s hair passes under the cover of the roof overhang.

“Make it quick,” Phasma tells Kylo as she leans out of the car window. “We don’t have time.”

Kylo rolls his eyes and pushes off the Mercedes. He strolls over to the sedan, not looking up when Hux crosses the lot. Kylo’s cockiness has dissipated with the adrenaline from the chase. He doesn’t have much left to him.

Dusty leather shoes stop in front of Kylo.

“You’re in my way.”

He stumbles to move aside and is almost slammed by the car door when it’s opened. Kylo bites his tongue when he sees a gun flung down on the passenger seat.

“You know, you’re a shit criminal.”

Kylo grins and glances up. Hux isn’t paying attention. “Yeah,” Kylo agrees. “I get that a lot.”

“You couldn’t even kill someone when you needed to.” Hux looks tired, like he could collapse onto a bed and sleep through the hangover that these past days have given him.

Kylo shrugs. “I guess I still have a soft spot for my dad.”

Hux looks up. Maybe there is a little pity in his eyes, a pinch of shock. But it’s covered up when he looks out onto the road.

Kylo tries to pull up some confidence and says, “Well, I’ll see you around, darlin’.”

“I don’t think so, honey.”

“Sure? We could have dinner some time.”

The door closes and the divide is gone.  Kylo thinks he is going to get socked in the jaw. Hux steps in front of Kylo, hands in fists at his sides.

“I never want you to come near me again,” Hux tells Kylo. His cold, pale eyes have a harsh look to them and there can’t be a word of argument against that.

“That’s fine,” Kylo lies.

Hux frowns like he tasted something bad. He reaches forward. Kylo flinches, expecting a hit.

Instead, his jaw is grabbed and yanked forward roughly.

Hux traps Kylo with a kiss. There is nothing soft about it; it’s just a press of lips to lips that acts as a stamp of a memory. There is no invitation for Kylo to prolong it, but there is no permission to let go either.

Kylo pushes against Hux, trying to crowd around him and take his lip between his teeth to remind himself that this is a real feeling. But Hux’s nails are sharp on his cheek and Kylo has no say in this.

The touch goes on a moment while longer until Hux backs off. He keeps hold on Kylo by his jaw, squeezing his fingers to bring back focus in Kylo’s eyes.

“This better have been worth something,” Hux tells him. “You cunt.”

Then, Kylo is shoved aside and Hux gets in the car.

The sedan leaves the motel parking lot before Kylo comes back around. He blinks like he is trying to get something out of his eyes when Phasma calls for him.

“C’mon, we’re going to Canada,” she says.

The road is long and grey. Phasma keeps talking and Kylo’s mind keeps going back to the night he can barely remember: Hux with his glassy eyes and red cheeks, his arms on Kylo and a kiss that contradicts his words.

“Fuck,” Kylo says and sinks down the seat of the Mercedes that is stuck in the thick of a highway’s traffic.

“Forgot your toothbrush?” Phasma laughs.

“Fuck,” Kylo says again. There will be many more miles before he chases his own regrets.

Miles and miles of empty roads. An empty face to fill a passport photo and a smile to slip past the alcohol loose fingers. Miles before he finds his way back to Hux’s words and a better situation in which they can meet.

“Fuck,” says Kylo.

 

 

 

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i kno ppl expected a lot more from this plot and tbh so did i. i originally wanted this to have over 20 chapters w a lot more character development and locations, but that didnt work out and that's why i almost dumped this idea entirely a year ago. i still wanted to make something out of it bc i liked working on the idea and i didnt want it to go to waste. so i hope people have enjoyed what i managed to write and understand why i couldnt make the story what it was meant to be which is why it cant meet quite a lot of expectations
> 
> anyway. thank u for all the kind comments, i appreciate them more than u kno

_1 year and 3 months later_

_New York City_

_East 51 st Street_

 

People pass through the street that adjoins the main road where the busy traffic hushes into the city of glistening glass. Cars are parked along the curb, laying silent, hiding in the shadows from the peak of the summer heat.

People walk, eyes lost behind the screens of their sunglasses, hauling shopping bags and each other’s hands. Nobody cares about the rented glossy black BMW parked beside St. Patrick’s Cathedral, or the man leaning against it with a newspaper. He is just a stranger, dressed in a grey hotel bathrobe, a white vest, red boxers and a pair of slippers with the hotel logo. Nothing special.

Propping a foot against the BMW’s wheel, the man folds the newspaper and slips it through the open crack of the passenger side window. The man’s hair is bundled by a yellow scrunchy and his eyes are hidden with pink framed shades that reflect blue. He pushes the frame up his nose and crosses his arms.

Following the stream of incoming pedestrians, an almost insignificant figure turns the corner and walks down the sidewalk toward the BMW. He, the figure, looks up at the bone pale spires of the cathedral with restrained distaste as the crowds split around him. Dressed in a black suit without a tie, the man looks too formal for a shopping trip which had resulted in the two large boutique bags in his hands. As he steps off the sidewalk, his hair catches red in the sunlight.

Approaching the BMW, the stranger takes the man in the bathrobe by the elbow and lifts the shopping bags toward him. “Kylo, honey, as you asked,” he says.

Kylo smiles and takes the bags. “Thank you, Hux. You’re a darlin’.” He leans in to press a kiss to Hux’s cheek and only gets a pat on the jaw in reply.

Hux walks around the car and gets in behind the wheel while Kylo falls into the backseat. The engine starts as Kylo takes off his glasses and flicks them aside on the floor. Out onto the road and Kylo is shrugging off his robe.

“One day,” Hux says as he pulls in behind a string of taxis, “Maybe one day—” Tissue paper rustles behind him, interrupting. “—I’ll understand your need to ditch your clothes at every hotel.”

Kylo is sat in the middle of the backseat, thighs open wide as he pulls his arms through the sleeves of a charcoal button-down shirt. “Not my fault we have to leave in a hurry.”

“Then, _perhaps_ you could learn to never unpack and dress in something more practical when we have to run.”

“That _was_ the most practical option!”

Hux looks down at the slippers that have been thrown onto the seat beside him. The soles are caked in street grime and filthy water from when they ran down the city block from the hotel. Hux grimaces and flicks the complimentary slippers on the floor.

“Just be glad we aren’t using your bank accounts anymore.”

Hux opens his mouth to snap, but he notices Kylo grinning at him in the reflection of the rear-view mirror and closes his mouth. With a wink, Kylo drops back across the seats, lifts his legs up like it’s some sleazy movie scene as he pulls on the jeans Hux picked for him.

“My god, I _hate_ you,” Hux whispers and looks back at the road as the traffic moves.

“You don’t mean that.” Bare feet wriggle through the jeans. “I know you like me. And the whole mess that comes with me.”

Hux raises a hand off the wheel with a perplexed expression. “What part of being on the run across the country, spending absurd amounts of money on hotels, being involved in criminal activities and almost being killed on _daily bases_ do you think _I like_?”

Kylo sits up, doing up the fly of his jeans and buttoning his shirt. He looks like he has just been fucked over the backseats of the car. “You,” he says, “getting what your job as an architect never gave you: danger, adventure, and a hot boyfriend.”

“Please shut up.” Hux is a moment away from slamming his head on the steering wheel. “You sound like a twelve year old.” He sighs, taking the turn toward East River. “I can’t believe I gave my cat to Phasma for safe keeping to run away with you. I hate you _so much_.”

Kylo keeps grinning; he knows it’s a lie.

If Hux hated him, _really_ hated him, he wouldn’t have smiled so much when he realised the fancy business dinner with a “client” was a set up made by Kylo to get him into a restaurant willingly. (Yes, he smiled, but only after threatening Kylo in several creative ways including cutting his dick off with a soup spoon.)

If Hux hated Kylo, he wouldn’t have stayed there and talked to him, six months after being knocked out and tied up in the back of his own car. He wouldn’t have chased after Kylo down the road to kiss him and say that he changed his mind: he will help him. Again.

If Hux hated Kylo, he wouldn’t be here. He wouldn’t be running from coast to coast of America, ditching his comfortable job to risk his life every day to save Kylo’s skin. He really was losing his talents on a career that would have sapped him of years until he realised that he is wasting time. (Besides, he didn't go into that job by choice.)

“Well.” Kylo shrugs on the blazer and reaches for the black and white oxfords (chosen as an act of vengeance). “It’s the truth: I’m your hot, adventurous and dangerous Significant Mistake with who you are going to catch a flight to Milan to meet the parents.” Last, he pulls the yellow scrunchy out of his hair.

The car halts at a set of red lights. People are crossing and Hux has his face in his hands. He is laughing.

“Have I ever mentioned,” he says, “that I hate spending time with you and that at the first instance I’m planning on dumping your dead body into a lake and going home and marrying a respectable woman like my mother always wanted me to?”

Kylo’s face is aching with a smile as he leans between the front seats.

“Have I told you that?” Hux asks, turning around.

Kylo takes Hux’s face into his hand. “Every single fucking day,” he says, “and I love you, darlin’.” He kisses Hux without resistance.

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
